


Touché

by rons_pigwidgeon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Execution, Implied Character Death, M/M, Wartime, imagined sexual congress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/rons_pigwidgeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are silent. I can feel him standing next to me, only an inch separating our shoulders from brushing against each other, but we do not touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touché

We are silent. I can feel him standing next to me, only an inch separating our shoulders from brushing against each other, but we do not touch. Not one word is exchanged between us. We have not exchanged even a nod of acknowledgement since school. His eyes are cold, his stance ridged, like stone, and his mouth is always set in a straight, hard line.

And yet, there is understanding. A knowledge of mutual ownership. Entwined hearts on the brink of something beautiful. Never breaking.

There is feeling, electric and almost palpable between out hands. All we would have to do is reach for it and we would be ensnared, possessing each other with a ferocity unknown to others.

We do not touch.

It is said that if you share a deep, eternal love, there is a link between you. You can make love without the touch of a single fingertip. That is what we are doing now. We do not move, do not brush against each other, but we are entwined. His lips are on my skin, my fingers trailing through his soft, blonde hair, my pale, freckled legs wrapped around his narrow hips. We are participating in a slow dance of tongues and hips, moving languidly, every sense heightened to the extreme. I feel every breath on my skin, ever brush of his hand. I am engulfed in him, in his love.

There is a signal from off to the side. He turns his head to nod at a figure sitting to the right of us. And then it happens. He turns to me and our eyes lock. He shows no outward emotion, but I can feel his love, wrapping around me in curling tendrils. I close my eyes as the soft silk covers them, enclosing me in darkness. I feel him move around me and I am not living in the world of my mind. His fingertips are really in my hair, brushing softly against the short hairs on my neck as he ties the scarf. A shiver runs down my spine as the back of his hand slides down my neck, and I can feel his warmth within me, spreading until it has infiltrated every molecule of my body.

He steps away. I stand cold and alone, but I know he is with me, can still feel his warmth. But then I feel it, the sharp pain replacing his warmth, and I am gone, the last tendrils of his love escaping into the midnight air.


End file.
